Permanent
by Driven2Insanity
Summary: The story of Aislin Anderson, a seventh year during the year of the Twiwizard Tournament. See the events of the Goblet of Fire unfold through her eyes, and watch the evolution of a relationship with the Potions Master. SS/OC Rated M for later chapters
1. Prologue

**Warning: Major spoilers for Goblet of Fire, as this fic is set during that year.**

**Disclaimer: All references to the world of Harry Potter belong to the woman we all love, JK Rowling. I just like to play around in that world a bit.**

Night had descended quite peacefully – on the outside, at least. The inside, in this bedroom that was not my own, had welcomed night in a somewhat explosive manner, and please note the fact that I had enjoyed it quite thoroughly. Explosive is the only way I can possibly describe how the later half of this summer had turned out.

I grinned at the thought, worming my way closer into the embrace of the one who held me in his slumber. He unconsciously tightened his hold on me, pulling me flush against his warm body. I sighed contentedly. Yes, I would be perfectly happy to simply stay in this exact position with this man until I died.

_Hm, that's a bit morbid._ I mentally shrugged. Death happened. All the better for me if I happened to be wrapped in his arms.

An insistent tapping caused me to lift my head; I glanced toward the window of the bedroom that seemed to exist merely for the convenience of owls. Gods know that he wouldn't have tolerated such a frivolity otherwise.

Through the opaque glass I could see the blurry outline of a prim bird, now continuing its assault on the windowpane. I groaned softly and extracted myself from the circle of his arm (most reluctantly) as subtly as I could. The stone floor was cold against my feet as I padded across to the window and quietly allowed the owl to deposit its letter in my outstretched hand. He flew away, wings flapping erratically.

I looked down to the folded parchment, seriously considering leaving it until the morning. But the scrawl of his name, as though written hurriedly, and the added blaze of the blood-red 'Urgent' deterred me from that particular plan of action; I sighed heavily and returned to the bed.

Leaning over the mattress, I kissed his mouth softly, playing absentmindedly with the hair spread about his face. I coaxed him into wakefulness rather quickly, able to tell the difference from the way he responded to my kiss with a burning intensity that made me want nothing more than to join myself to him once more.

I eased back unwillingly, staring down into his dark eyes. He looked up with a definite smirk, but those eyes betrayed the slight confusion at my lack of enthusiasm. I smiled gently.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but a letter arrived for you. It looks serious."

He sat up immediately, all traces of sleep gone. I would never understand how he did it, but I assumed it came from the abrupt calls of his former Master, oh so long ago. Perhaps it was a trait that did not fade, even after lack of use.

I handed him the letter silently, pulling a pillow to my body after he had taken it. I watched him rip it open and saw his eyes scan quickly, narrowing near the end. His mouth pressed into a hard line and he unexpectedly rose from the bed, striding toward the wardrobe on the other side of the room. I admired the lines of his naked body, sighing softly when he covered himself with black robes that swirled about. We both remained silent; he delicately ignored my gaze as my eyes, the color of summer grass, followed his movements around the room.

At last he returned to my side, fully dressed, to retrieve his wand from the table next to the bed. He stashed it somewhere in the folds of his robe and focused his attention on me.

"I must leave," his deep, silky voice seemed loud in the still air.

"I figured."

His gaze softened slightly as he looked at me. "I wouldn't go if it weren't important, Aislin."

"What's going on?"

He sighed, reverberating with the weight of his role in life. "It appears that some Death Eaters have taken it upon themselves to remind the Wizarding world why we were feared in the first place." I noticed his use of pronoun, but chose not to comment on it. I knew who he was before I went to his bed. "The Dark Mark was conjured over the site of the Quiddich World Cup. My presence is requested there."

I nodded unhappily. "Probably accounting for your whereabouts when the riot occurred," I muttered scathingly under my breath.

His lips twitched in the merest glimmer of a smirk. "As if I would attend such a pointless event in the first place." One of the reasons we had decided to spend the night together. I had significantly less enthusiasm for the 'sport,' and he was more than willing to explore alternate activities with me. His tone became serious. "Go home, Aislin. I want you gone by the time I return. I don't want you integrated into all of this."

I managed to produce a small smile. "Yes, sir," I replied softly.

He leaned down and touched his mouth to mine for the briefest of moments, and then he was striding out the door. I flopped back onto the bed, biting my lip. If the Ministry wanted his alibi, they weren't going to get it. I was of age, yes, and although our coupling wasn't all-out illegal, it was severely frowned upon. We both knew the consequences of our relationship, but – for me, at least – he was too addicting to let go.

Into the darkness of the room, I whispered my plea, "Be careful, Severus."

* * *

A/N: Welcome! This is going to be my first multi-chaptered fic of the Harry Potter variety, so hopefully I get some followers along the way. I am currently in the process of another fanfic, of the Heroes variety (watch for the shameless self-promotion), _Shadows of the Heart_. I'll probably be shooting myself soon for taking on two full-length stories, especially since I'm falling behind on _Shadows_, but this idea won't leave my head. So let's just see how it works out, all right?

See the button in the pretty Slytherin colors? It's there for a reason! Let me know if you want to find out where this goes . . . Review, please!

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	2. Back to School

I groaned aloud as I stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express. The slight rain that had been falling in London had morphed into a torrential downpour here at the school. I peered out, barely able to see the carriages that would take us up to the castle. The train squealed to a stop; I took a deep breath and threw open the door.

I sprinted to the nearest carriage, but I could have walked at a leisurely pace and still achieved the same results. I absently ran a hand over the neck of the leading threshal as I passed, before throwing myself into the interior of the carriage – completely soaked through, might I add. I sighed, ringing out my brunette hair.

"That can't be good for the interior of this thing," a teasing feminine voice remarked. I glanced up and smirked; of course my best friend would know where to find me, even in the most obscure conditions. Andromeda Cole, a fellow Gryffindor, climbed up and took the seat across from me, grinning.

"I'll try to remember that, Andi," I said, flinging my wet hair in an arc and sending a spray of water her way. She squealed; I laughed. "Welcome back. How was America?"

She shrugged. "Nice. I could live there, I suppose."

"Well, that's something."

Andi nodded. "And how was your summer, Aislin?"

The question, asked innocently enough, nonetheless brought a brilliant, devious smile to my face. She quirked an eyebrow and tilted her head, her typical inquiring look. I giggled. "It was . . . interesting."

"Interesting?" she echoed. A ghost of a smirk crossed her face. "Aislin, did you meet someone?"

I shrugged noncommittally.

"Oh my gods, you did! When did you meet him? What's he like? Who is he? Does he attend Hogwarts? Oh, man, I can't believe it!"

I laughed. "Believe it. The whole thing was pretty fantastic. But we decided that it was just a summer rendezvous, so don't expect to hear the details." I mentally cringed. I didn't like lying to my best friend, but for the obvious reasons, I had to keep it secret. Ugh.

Andi sighed, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "Well, at least you had fun. Don't expect much of that this year." She groaned. "I hear N.E.W.T. year is hell. And, for the record, I think you're absolutely off your rocker to be taking N.E.W.T. level Potions classes. With Snape, no less! Honestly!"

I hid a smile. "Oh, yes, it's going to be absolute torture."

I conveniently failed to mention that the torture aspect of the class would be me, seeing him, unable to touch him and kiss him and throw myself across his desk . . .

* * * * * *

Andi and I rushed through the downpour toward the castle, only momentarily startled by a high-pitched scream that cut through the sound of the storm. I mentally groaned. The year had barely begun and someone was either terrorizing the school or pranking something awful. Personally, I had my money on the Weasley twins. I had endured six my entire seven years with those wild hellions, what with them being in the year below me, and don't think I hadn't fallen victim to their antics one or a dozen times.

However, I couldn't help but allow a giggle to escape upon seeing the scene in the entrance hall.

"Peeves, in the Entrance Hall, with an arsenal of water balloons," I muttered to Andi. She laughed. The great thing about being half-blood – of which I have no shame of – is that one knows the best of both the Muggle world and the magical world. The great game of Clue, for instance. The half-jeering, half-confused glares from a passing group of Slytherins, on the other hand, indicated the ignorance Purebloods tended to hold toward the non-magical world, supposedly lesser beings. Please. I happen to know very well that blood falls scarlet no matter who it comes from.

I grabbed Andi's hand and together we snuck around the perimeter of the hall, managing to enter the Great Hall with no more water damage than previously. Still, we had to step precariously across the slippery floor, dodging the slug-like trails of water that followed students wherever they walked.

"What a way to start the year," Andi said, plopping down about halfway down the Gryffindor table. I took the seat next to her, nodding my agreement.

"Still, it can only get better from here."

"Here's hoping," chimed in a new male voice from behind us. "But you never know. It's not like Hogwarts is one for conforming to our plans, huh?"

I groaned exaggeratedly. "Hi, Trystan."

Trystan Hans sprawled himself next to me, grinning crookedly. His brother, Jordan, dropped onto the bench across from us, wearing a similar smirk. While not in the same year (seventeen year old Trystan and sixteen year old Jordan), the Hans brothers looked and acted eerily alike, often mistaken for twins.

"Good evening, ladies," said Jordan. "And how might we be doing this fine Welcoming Feast?"

"A bit cold, a lot soaked, and starving," retorted Andi. "Pretty much the same as everybody else, J."

He chuckled. "I hear that." He nodded a bit down the table. "Harry and entourage got a special welcome-home gift from Peeves on their way in," he grinned.

Andi and I peered down the line of students; sure enough, Ron was moaning loudly and ringing the water out of his robes. Hermione, hair a bit less bushy than the year before, saw me looking and smiled, waving slightly. I waved back, grinning widely. She and I got along pretty well, despite the age difference. We both had the ambition for knowledge, I just lacked motivation most of the time. Consequently, it led to some late nights in the common room; last year especially we had spoken frequently, discussing ideas and theories.

"Don't be mean," I frowned. "A whole bunch of other people got the brunt of it too, you know. No need to single out –"

"Harry Potter!" both brothers mock-swooned, going all starry-eyed in a creepy sort of way.

I rolled my eyes. "You're worse than Professor Snape, you know that? I hear that's he's absolutely awful to those three."

"With good reason, Miss Anderson, I assure you," a deep baritone answered.

I swallowed a surprised squeak and slowly turned to stare up into the face of Sev – Professor Snape. _Ah, gotta remember that now_, I scolded myself. I made my face as passive as possible, ignoring the burning that had begun across my skin.

"Good evening, Professor Snape. How was your summer?" My lips quirked reflexively into a smirk, but I blanked my expression quickly.

His eyebrow lifted, and I hoped I was the only one that saw the slight smoldering in his eyes as he looked at me. Perhaps I was risking too much, secretly goading him, but I loved that I was one of the only ones to really get under his skin and I took full advantage of it when I could. I smiled innocently as he continued to stare at me.

"My summer affairs are none of your concern. Five points from Gryffindor for probing into matters that have absolutely nothing to do with you." With that, he swept past us to the high table. The billowing of his robes hid the subtle touch on my arm as he left.

"The nerve of him," Trystan shook his head. "Ask a simple, polite question, and be punished for it. Only Snape," he said darkly.

I sighed, pretending that his point-taking irritated me as well. In reality, I was fighting not to squirm against the bench. I swear that man could talk me into an orgasm.

_Now there's an idea._ I stored the thought away for later.

I was spared further conversation by the opening of the doors of the Great Hall. A line of short, nervous-looking first years were led up to the front of the Hall, one in particular looking half drowned and dripping profusely as he passed.

"They get shorter every year," Trystan murmured. Andi stifled a giggle.

The Sorting Hat sang its song ("Profound as always," Jordan whispered sarcastically), first years were sorted, and with a word from Professor Dumbledore the tables filled with food. I sighed, happily this time, and reached for the nearest slice of ham. Conversation flowed easily throughout dinner – in spite of their annoying quirks, the Hans brothers were good for lively talks and actually had refined table manners. That's the result of being raised in a Pureblood family (one that did not share the Slytherin view of superiority, however), I suppose.

After dessert had been cleared, Dumbledore stood to make the typical start-of-term announcements; I only half-paid attention, shifting my gaze from the Headmaster to the Potions Master and back. Severus, to his credit, did not look in my direction. He obviously possessed skills of discretion better than my own.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

My gaze whipped back to the Dumbledore in a hurry. No Quidditch? No crowded, stupid matches where people fought over sports balls for no greater purpose than to win a meager trophy? Really? I fought to contain my joy – the love of Quidditch was something I did not share with the rest of the Wizarding world. The Hans brothers were loudly voicing their protests, the sports junkies that they were.

Dumbledore continued as though he hadn't heard the outbursts, speaking over the din. "I have the great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"

The slamming of the Great Hall doors interrupted his speech. Heads whirled and craned toward the entrance, and whispers broke out all across the tables.

The man framed in the doorway appeared quite war-beaten and had wrapped himself in a long traveling cloak. His presence oozed mystery and intrigue, and as though to elucidate that, the clunk of his walk echoed as he made his way toward the High Table. I stared as he walked past, not able to help myself. His face was indeed scarred and mutilated, obviously unfriendly reminders of battles past. His eyes, though. His eyes filled me with a sort of morbid fascination. One was normal – dark brown, darting about methodically – but the other large with a vividly bright blue iris, rolling about erratically in its socket, entirely separate from the normal eye. His gaze passed over me and I shivered reflexively.

We watched him approached Dumbledore, but my eyes had shifted toward Severus. He appeared completely indifferent to the newcomer's arrival, but I knew him intimately enough (insert smug grin here) to know that the slight tightening around his mouth indicated displeasure. Still, he did not look at me.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore announced to the silent hall. "Professor Moody."

No one clapped, but the Hans brothers gasped quietly. Trystan leaned closer to Andi and me. "Mad-Eye Moody! Our mum's mentioned him at home a bit – ex-Auror, absolutely paranoid. Played a huge part in the last war against You-Know-Who, that's how he's got all those scars."

"Wow," Andi said softly. "Gives me the creeps, he does."

I shrugged noncommittally, again not voicing my true opinion. Sure, he was creepy, but he seemed regular enough. Regular enough to teach students, anyway.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and with difficulty I brought my attention back to him. "As I was saying, it is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

My eyes widened.

"You're _joking_!" exclaimed Fred Weasley loudly.

Almost everyone laughed, myself included, as well as Dumbledore, who continued on with an explanation of the legendary competition. I had heard of it, of course, but any attempts at holding the tournament were few and far between. I listened intently as the Headmaster laid out the process – I was especially excited to hear that the foreign schools of Beaubatons and Durmstrang would be arriving in October. I gasped when I heard the extent of the prize, and Trystan swore under his breath.

Dumbledore's announcement about the age requirement elicited more angry protests from the sea of students, but I'm pretty sure Trystan gave a sigh of relief, although Jordan was among the outraged. Trystan cared for his brother more than anything in the world, and the age restriction would keep him safe. I understood and touched his hand discreetly under the table. He shot me a look and then I could clearly see the relief there. I nodded sympathetically and he allowed a small smile to cross his face.

By this time, Dumbledore had dismissed us and we headed out to the stairways. Jordan was fuming.

"I'm like, three months from being seventeen! It's not fair; I could compete just as well as any of _you_," he glowered.

I scoffed. "Who says I even want to enter? Sounds like a death wish to me."

Trystan rolled his eyes. "I don't understand you, Aislin. You shun Quidditch, you shun adventure – how the hell did you end up in Gryffindor?"

Andi and Jordan snorted. "Ha ha," I retorted. "Just because I don't find myself fueled by hormones does not mean I shun adventure. I'll have you know that I can be very adventurous when I want to be."

"I'm sure," Jordan nodded, obviously placating me.

Andi punched him lightly. "She had an adventure this summer, you know. She met someone," she informed them smugly.

And, of course, they immediately pounced on me.

"You? Aislin Anderson? Met someone?"

"Oh, do tell, do tell."

I glared at Andi, who had the decency to look sheepish. She muttered a hasty sorry as we entered the Gryffindor tower, merging with the other students eager to get to bed. I managed to escape to the girls tower before Trystan and Jordan could corner me, effectively stopping their questioning.

I scolded Andi as we prepared for bed. "You just had to tell them, didn't you, girl?"

"I was defending you, you know."

"Yes, I do know, but couldn't you think of a better example? I don't want my love life publicized all over the school. You know how gossip spreads."

"I don't even know who it is, Aislin. Who would it get back to anyway?"

I shrugged ambiguously and crawled into my warm bed, closing the drapes and bringing another conversation to a halt. Based on the events of the evening, this year was bound to be exciting, and that wasn't even counting my secret liaisons with a certain sexy Potions Master.

I smiled into my pillow. An exciting year indeed.

* * *

A/N: Please review! I love your comments!


	3. Perfect Motivation

Warning: This story is rated M for a reason. That reason is revealed in this chapter *wink*

* * *

The first day back at classes is not, unfortunately, like that of Muggle schools. Especially not for those of us taking NEWTs in our seventh year. You don't get a syllabus, a list of rules, and a checklist of items to bring before Friday. You get a lecture about the importance of the end-of-the year tests that essentially determine your future – one that takes half the class period – and a mountain of homework to jump-start magical learning.

"You ever think," Andi grumbled as we exited the Tranfiguration classroom – McGonagall in particular seemed to think that homework equaled knowledge – "that if they just taught us a bit more each year, then the seventh year wouldn't be the time to heap everything on us at once?"

I half-shrugged, concentrating on not dropping the multiple books filling my arms. "The idea has merit, Andi, so why don't you bring that up next class?" I couldn't particularly sympathize with her, not when she had opted for NEWT-level Herbology versus NEWT-level Potions as I had. Maybe I was a bit hypocritical, because I had chosen my classes just like everyone else, but I knew advanced Potions wasn't going to be easy. I'd have to work hard just to scrape by.

Even if I was sleeping with the Professor.

Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts was an adventure in itself. Andi, Trystan and I all grabbed a table near the front, not knowing what to expect from Moody but expecting a decent lesson all the same. I ended up seriously rethinking our decision about two minutes after the ex-Auror walked through the door.

It seemed that the universal first-day lecture from Moody focused on the three Unforgivable Curses, complete with a vivid demonstration which, quite frankly, made Andi a bit sick to her stomach. Personally, I hated spiders with a passion (dead or alive – slightly problematic when it came to certain potions) and thus spent most of the lesson concentrating on anything except the eight-legged arachnids. I understood the theory aspect, though. Good enough, right?

Ha.

Moody dismissed the class roughly and we poured out, chatting excitedly. Trystan in particular seemed to thoroughly enjoy Moody's unorthodox style of teaching.

"He gets his point across, you know?" he said, gesturing wildly with his hands. "Visual images are a great way to ensure that information stays."

"And that was a visual image, all right," Andi moaned, holding her stomach and sticking out her tongue. "Ugh, I won't be able to forget that anytime soon."

"Aislin, what's your take?" Trystan probed.

I shrugged. "I didn't catch a whole lot other than the notes near the end, to be perfectly honest."

"Ah," he smirked. "Yeah, you and spiders don't exactly make a pretty pair, hm?"

"You can say that again," I muttered, grimacing.

I was relieved to reach the courtyard and the fresh air after the claustrophobic DADA room. I perched myself on a brick wall and breathed deeply, letting it out in a big sigh. Andi threw herself to the ground, shoving her bookbag away unceremoniously.

"I will be perfectly happy to never see another book as long as I live," she groaned, even as she checked her schedule for the rest of the week.

"Good luck with that," Trystan snorted, sitting down beside me and swinging an arm casually over my shoulders. "No rest for the weary – and you're nowhere near weary yet."

Andi sighed, twisting her mouth into an unhappy grimace. "How many weeks till Christmas?"

I laughed. "Too many."

"Hey," Trystan said softly, nudging Andi's shoulder and nodding toward the open courtyard, "Check it out. House rivalry at its best."

I had never particularly cared for Draco Malfoy. Despite the arrogance he carried, he was incredibly immature – even for his years. I suppose that's what came from being spoiled one's entire life; my parents had had a run-in or two with Malfoy, Sr. at the Ministry and I knew how that family operated. It had absolutely disgusted me last year when Draco drew out his hippogriff injury only to avoid Quidditch in the rain. Still, Malfoy and company versus Harry Potter and friends always provided a good source of entertainment.

I rolled my eyes as I watched them yell at each other. Best I could tell, Malfoy was insulting Ron's family and their lack of wealth . . . again. One, like money defined a family anyway? Same stupid mentality as Pureblood-Muggleborn arguments. Two, like that topic of attack hadn't been use before?

"Seriously, Malfoy, get some new material," I muttered under my breath. Andi and Trystan chuckled knowingly.

Harry finally got in the last word (as always) and turned to leave; I gasped when I saw Malfoy draw his wand and point at Harry's turned back. That had to be the lowest of the low – did this boy know no bounds?

Trystan excitedly poked me and pointed toward the marble staircase, where Mad-Eye Moody was descending as quickly as his two mis-matched legs would allow, wand out and aimed at the pale blond. Malfoy's mouth moved as he hissed a spell; a loud BANG echoed around the courtyard and I gasped when the curse barely missed its target. Harry fumbled around his robes, but Moody had already taken care of Malfoy. Another BANG and I started giggling, then chuckling, and I couldn't help but escalate into hysterical laughter.

"Oh no you don't, laddie!" Moody shouted at the terrified white ferret quivering on the stones. He turned to Harry and ensured that he hadn't been hit by the curse before having a bit of fun of his own. He pointed his wand at the ferret again and began bouncing him up and down, punctuating each word of his growled lecture.

I had fallen off the wall by this time, holding my sides and howling with laughter. I wasn't the only one, either. Tears were streaming down Andi's face as she giggled uncontrollably; Trystan, as far as I could tell, only stared at the scene with an outrageously smug, satisfied smirk on his face.

"Never – do – that – again –" Moody barked as he bounced the ferret still higher.

"Professor Moody!"

I attempted to curb my laughter to watch the next confrontation unfold as Professor McGonagall hurried down the staircase, arms filled with books, obviously drawn by the commotion.

Moody greeted the Transfiguration teacher calmly, apparently unconcerned as he continued to toy with the Malfoy-ferret.

"What – what are you doing?" McGonagall asked hesitantly, eyes watching the ferret fly through the air.

"Teaching."

I bit my lip, desperately holding back my laughter as I waited for her reaction.

"Teach – Moody, _is that a student?"_ she shrieked, books falling to the floor, obviously horrified.

"Yep," Moody replied cheerfully. A bark of laughter from behind me indicated that Trystan was enjoying the show as much as the rest of us.

"No!" McGonagall gasped, whipping out her wand; a sharp snapping sound later, and an immensely disheveled Draco Malfoy reappeared, wincing as he quickly scrambled to his feet.

McGonagall, voice higher than normal, feebly reprimanded Moody about the prohibited use of transfiguration as a punishment at Hogwarts. I missed half the conversation, allowing myself to release all the laughter from my lungs, but I caught the word 'Snape' near the end and paused to see Malfoy being dragged off to the dungeons.

McGonagall stared after them anxiously before gathering her books and heading off. I let out one last giggle and sprawled out on the ground next to Andi, still caught in the throes of hysteria.

"Calm down, girl," Trystan grinned down at her.

Jordan suddenly found us, an impossible grin spread across his face. "Did you guys see that?" he asked breathlessly.

I gestured at Andi. "Look at her. Of course we saw." I smirked. "Pretty much made my day, right there."

Jordan nodded, head bobbing up and down, silly smile still in place. He was closer in age to Malfoy, and their separate social circles ran a bit closer than us seventh years. Jordan had taken a lot of crap from Malfoy and obviously took pleasure in the fact that Draco had gotten a little bit of what was coming to him.

"Moody sure took care of _him_," he smirked, reaching down for my hand. He pulled me up and I brushed myself off, nodding my agreement. Jordan helped Andi to her feet as well and she snatched up her bag, mood considerably lighter than earlier in the afternoon.

"Thought you'd never touch another book again," Trystan teased as we headed toward the Great Hall for dinner.

Andi shrugged silently, a ghost of a smile on her face.

Jordan snorted. "Guess seeing a blond prat get transfigured into a pretty little ferret is enough to motivate anyone."

I giggled and lightly punched him in the shoulder. "Too true, J. Too true."

* * * * * *

Later that night, in the common room, I stared into the fire unblinkingly. I didn't want to be here, with all these people. I wanted to be with only one person. We hadn't seen each other, one-on-one, in nearly two weeks; the rush of start of term had prevented me from escaping my family and he had been preparing for his own classes in his own time. I needed to see him.

I stood up and wove my way through lounging bodies, not yet concerned enough to begin work on their many essays. I touched Andi's shoulder as I headed for the portrait opening. "I'm off to the library. Don't wait up."

She exaggerated a sigh. "Of course you are. Have fun," she said as I left.

The evening was still young, so I casually made my way down from Gryffindor tower to the dungeons, trying to look like I had a purpose (I did, but not the kind that would likely be tolerated). I wrapped my robe tighter around my body as I entered the lower corridors. Even after spending a few nights down here, I wasn't used to the colder temperatures. Luckily, I had a remedy for that. I smiled.

The solid wooden door that had seemed so forbidding in my earlier years wasn't as imposing now, not when I knew what truly lay behind it. I raised my hand to knock but hesitated. Would he welcome me? We had never really decided on what the status of our relationship would be once we were back at Hogwarts. Maybe it had been a fling to him.

I sighed. _Dig up some of that Gryffindor courage_. I knocked quickly, not giving myself time to back out.

"Enter," his bark came from within.

I pushed open the door and peeked around the frame. "Sir? Is this a bad time?"

He looked up from his furious scribbling and frowned. "Miss Anderson. Get in here and do close the door behind you."

I did as he asked and slowly made my way up to the desk. I chewed my lip nervously. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here.

"Aislin."

The surprising gentleness, a sharp contrast to the harsh invitation he had issued, startled me and I glanced up. His mouth was set in a thin line, but his eyes betrayed just a hint of the tender man I knew and spent my nights with. I hesitantly smiled at him.

"You must know how dangerous this is, Aislin," Severus reprimanded gently, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm sorry, Severus." I dropped my eyes to the desk. "I had to see you. We haven't been able to talk in a while."

"I know."

"Do you want me to leave?"

He sighed heavily. "You should leave."

I nodded sadly and turned, heading back toward the door. His voice stopped me halfway there.

"You _should_ go, Aislin. I did not say that you had to leave, nor do I want you to."

I glanced over my shoulder; his arms were crossed over his chest, the look on his face seemingly torn between exasperation and sternness. I couldn't help the grin that graced my mouth. I walked back to him, hopping up on the edge of his desk. He grimaced, pushing some papers to the side.

"Thank you for being considerate."

"Always a pleasure," I smiled. I stared at him intently. I would never get tired of looking at him. His hair shone, a byproduct of hovering over cauldrons all day, but was soft to the touch; his hands, precise and gentle, slightly calloused from his work; his skin – pale, yes, and weathered by stress, but just as warm as anyone else's. I loved his eyes the most . . . dark, spiraling tunnels of depth, able to show any range of emotions from rage to lust. I knew that last one well.

"Are you quite finished staring?"

I lifted gaze, unashamed, smirking. "Not on your life. But I could put it off for a while, I suppose."

He shook his head, amused. "I don't understand your fascination."

"You don't have to." I changed the subject, eyes sparkling slyly. "So I hear you had a visit from your favorite student earlier this evening."

Severus scowled. "Moody had no right. I wouldn't have expected anything less than blatant disregard for the rules, and I highly doubt a transfiguration was needed for Malfoy's . . . eccentricities."

I snorted in the most un-ladylike way. "Eccentricities? Severus, I was there. Malfoy deserved exactly what he got."

His eyes narrowed. "You're just a bit prejudiced, Aislin."

I shook my head. "Uh-uh, there's no love lost between rival Houses, sure, but honestly. Malfoy attacked Harry's turned back. Can't say I blame Moody for turning him into a rodent."

"Harry Potter," Severus muttered darkly. "Of course. Another supporter for the fan club."

I rolled my eyes, swinging my legs under the desk. "Talk about prejudice. Speaking of, what's with the house points you took away from me?"

He smirked. "Deliberately attempting to get a rise out of a teacher, Miss Anderson. I should have subtracted more."

I quirked an eyebrow. "I assure you I can do much better than attempt, Professor Snape." I slid off the desk and into his lap; he sucked in a surprised breath and I grinned. I leaned in toward his ear. "I happen to know," my breath tickled the shell of said ear, "very well," I darted out my tongue to taste his lobe, "what sort of rise," I ground my hips suggestively into his, "I can get out of you."

He growled wordlessly, sending a Silencing charm and locking spell toward the door. "Prove it, Miss Anderson."

"I intend to."

I pressed my mouth to his and thrust my tongue between his parted lips. Immediately he returned my attack with fervor, our tongues dueling between his mouth and mine. Our encounters were always interesting, seeing who won out as the more dominant partner. He claimed that title, most of the time, but sometimes he let me take over.

I wound my hands through his hair, holding him flush against my body as we kissed. I felt the familiar burn start in my skin, accompanied by the desperate need to rid myself of all clothes. With that, I reached for the buttons of his robe; my fingers worked quickly, deftly unfastening one after the other and I pushed the offending article off his shoulders. He drew back slightly and I moved down to his neck.

"Here?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yes," I murmured, licking a line down the column of his throat.

"Aislin . . ." he protested softly.

I bit down on his delicate skin. "Now," I hissed, my voice low with passion.

That did it. He pushed me back onto the desk, leaving his robe in the chair (he was, I noted, impeccably dressed in a crisp white shirt and pressed black pants) and he loomed over me. He whispered under his breath and I shivered abruptly; my clothing had all but vanished, but he had allowed my matching lace bra and panties intact upon my body. Obviously, he wanted that pleasure for himself.

He smiled predatorily and dove for my neck. I gasped as he nipped his way from my ear to my shoulder, biting down especially hard at the junction between my neck and my shoulder and soothing the pain with his tongue. I arched into his touch as his hand cupped my covered breast, thumb gently stroking my nipple into an erect peak. I moaned aloud, fingers white-knuckled on the desk.

"Aislin," he whispered against my skin.

I fumbled for the buttons on his shirt, making it past the first four before bunching my hands in the fabric and yanking. The ruined shirt fell open and I greedily stroked his chest, gently tracing every scar that marked him. He stilled, allowing his eyes to flutter closed at my explorations. I buried my head in the crook of his neck, wrapping my arms around him.

He embraced me as well, but against my back I felt his ulterior motive and bit back a smile. He slid the straps of my now-unclasped bra off my shoulders and down my arms, throwing it away carelessly. I threw my head back in ecstasy as he descended again, hot mouth closing around a rosy nipple, hand kneading the other just the way I liked it – tender, with an edge of pain that easily melted into pleasure. I gasped as his tongue worked its magic, circling round and round, occasionally sucking with a force that instantly made me wetter.

Blindly, I groped for the buttons of his pants; he switched attention at my chest, laving the other with teeth and tongue. Momentarily distracted, I moaned aloud. He chuckled against my skin, sending a delicious shiver through my body. My hands managed to unfasten the button and open the zipper, and his breath caught as I touched the very solid evidence of his arousal.

Severus suddenly pushed me back, forcing me to lay on the desk, legs dangling off the edge. I had no time to prepare myself as he ripped off my panties, tearing the fabric; I gasped loudly, equally surprised and turned on at the abruptness of his actions. He disappeared from my line of view as he knelt and I held my breath, releasing it in a soft scream when I felt his tongue delve into my tender folds.

He stroked the fire within me expertly, lapping at my juices as I gave them freely. I held on to the edge of the desk as if my life depended on it and made no effort to stop the noises that came from my throat in the form of moans and cries. His grip tightened on my thighs – I knew I would have bruises come morning, but ask me if I cared. He sent me spiraling higher and higher toward my release, plunging his fingers in and out, curling upward to hit _that spot_ while using his tongue to ravish my clit.

"Yes," I urged him in a strained whisper. "Right there . . . oh, gods, Severus, now! Now! Now, please . . .!"

One final, potent thrust and I shattered, screaming my pleasure for him. He drank in my release as the waves crashed through me, heating me inside and out, until I went limp, drained of energy. He lifted his head and smiled knowingly at me, licking his lips, more than just a little smug. Yes, he knew my body, and he took full advantage of it.

I watched as he stepped back, shrugging off his shirt and stripping out of his pants; he stood before me in only silk black boxers (my favorite, he knew – perhaps he had been expecting this nighttime visit?) and met my stare. I gazed back, enjoying the sensation of drowning in the dark pools that were his eyes. Have I mentioned that I could stare into them forever?

After I had caught my breath, I painstakingly heaved myself up into a sitting position. Without taking my eyes off his, I hooked my fingers in his boxer waistband and slowly drew them down over his hips and thighs until they fell to the floor aided only by gravity. I took him in hand, using a single finger to caress up and down the length of his member. Many times, I had contemplated what insanity would ensue if any of the females at Hogwarts knew what the Potions Master kept hidden under those voluminous robes. But he was mine, and I liked it that way.

I wrapped my fist around him then and I believe he actually stopped breathing for a second or five, his eyes closing involuntarily. I smirked, rubbing my thumb over the head slowly.

His eyes snapped open, burning darkly; he had obviously caught on that I was teasing him on purpose. My smile faltered and he surged forward, filling me completely. I gasped. It took some getting used to, his size. That first night I thought he would tear me in two, despite his gentleness.

The time for gentle had passed as need raged within us both. He swung my legs over his arms and pulled back, thrusting his hips forward again. I cried out and clung to him as he rammed into me over and over, adjusting his position every so often so that a new part of me would feel his length. He kept up a smooth, steady rhythm; sweat beading on his forehead as he drilled me mercilessly into the desk.

The ripples of pleasure started again and I gasped for a decent breath of air. He did not let up, though, and all too soon I was throatily shouting my second orgasm, clamping down around him. He gasped and I felt him come inside me; we held onto each other, riding out the bliss until he collapsed on top of me, exhausted. I ran my fingers through his hair, breathing heavily but making no move to push him away. Severus Snape did not cuddle, but these post-coital moments more than made up for that fact.

At long last, he lifted his head and locked eyes with me. "Twenty points to Gryffindor," he breathed quietly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Twenty? Really? I thought it was worth more like one hundred."

"Ah, but that would seem suspicious."

I frowned. "I suppose. Oh, Professor," I said slyly. "You definitely receive an O."

He chuckled. "Good to know, Miss Anderson. Besides," he smirked, "there's always tomorrow."

My eyes widened hopefully. "Yeah?"

"Yes, Aislin. If you want this, however –"

"I do," I assured him quickly. "I really, really, do."

"You will have to use discretion. Too much is at stake for either of us to be taking risks." He slowly took his weight off me, wincing slightly. "I have to say, though, that the benefits just might outweigh the risks."

"I couldn't agree more, Severus," I said with a smile.

I said my good-byes shortly thereafter, lest I be caught out after curfew. We hugged a final time and he bade me good night, retreating into his rooms before I had even left the corridor. I couldn't help but feel disappointed. I understood the conditions upon which our relationship rested, yet I thought it would be easier than this. Why did I care so much? It bothered me that he could fuck me senseless and then act indifferent upon my departure. We hadn't wanted anything serious, I knew. More of a pleasant arrangement than a relationship, actually.

The fact was that I was beginning to care for the man more than I should. And it spelled big trouble for me.

* * *

A/N: First of all, thank you so much for all your positive reviews! Encouragement is greatly appreciated, and all the alerts make me happy as well.

This is my first attempt at published smut, so I hope it's satisfactory. I'd like to give gold star to ChronoNomad, who helped with the betaing of the sex. If anyone has any suggestions at what you want to see, please feel free to PM me.

I look forward to seeing what you thought – whether you love it or hate, please review!


	4. As I Am or Not at All

"Hey, Aislin, how's it going?"

I looked up from my lengthy Arithmacy essay to see Hermione, smiling brightly. I couldn't help but grin back. The girl was just too darn cute – I could see myself in her at that age. Eager to please, determined to do right in the world, no matter the cost. I had lost some of that innocence, whether fortunately or unfortunately depending on one's point of view. Hermione still had to experience the darker aspects of this world, something I hoped not to happen anytime soon.

"It's going, Hermione, right off the table and onto the floor," I said, gesturing toward my rolling parchment with an obvious roll of my eyes.

She chuckled. "I can't wait until N.E.W.T.s," she told me eagerly. "Of course, I have to get through my O.W.L.s first, and everyone says that they're extremely stressful, not to mention the workload fifth years get, but by the time I'm in the seventh year I'm sure I'll have learned how to manage –"

"Hermione," I interrupted, smirking.

"Yes?"

"You're going to be fine, and besides, you shouldn't be worrying about this yet." I set down my quill and cracked my knuckles, wincing slightly. "So what's up? I assume you didn't come over to engage me in conversation about academics. And if you did, I actually might hex you," I said teasingly. Of course I wouldn't actually hex the girl – she would be worth a lot to the Wizarding world one day.

Hermione looked faintly guilty; she blushed. "Actually, I wondered if you'd be interested in joining S.P.E.W."

I stared at her blankly. "Join what now?"

"It's an acronym for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," she explained breathlessly. "House-elves work endless hours for any number of establishments, even here at Hogwarts, with no pay, no compensation whatsoever –"

"Nothing doing, Hermione," I cut her off with a grim smile. "I know some house-elves – the Hans brothers have one, coming from an old family – and they're happy, Hermione, just the way they live. There's nothing a good house elf loves more than serving."

"But that's the point!" she said indignantly. "They don't know any better. Wizards have made house-elves inferior, and now they think that it's their job to cater to their owners' every need! They shouldn't have to work for nothing, forced to punish themselves for the minutest mistakes!" Hermione shook her metal tin forcibly. "Come on, Aislin, surely you of all people can understand the logic behind this movement?"

I shrugged, leaning back in my chair. "If it were a different time, Hermione, maybe. But you're asking too much this time. Not of me," I went on, seeing her open her mouth to protest, "but of the Wizarding community as a whole." I spoke the truth, but felt a pang at the crestfallen expression on her face. I smiled gently. "I won't discourage you, Hermione. If you keep with it, if you really believe that this is for the best, I think you should continue trying."

She sighed. "This is harder than I thought it was going to be," she muttered dejectedly.

I chuckled. "The fight for anything that's worth it isn't going to be easy, Hermione. Just don't give up."

Hermione frowned playfully. "Whose side are you on, anyway? You won't join the movement, but you'll push me to keep going with my efforts?"

"It's not about sides," I shook my head. "It's your ambition and your want for improving the lives of others. You can't just abandon that."

She shot me a relieved smile. "Thanks, Aislin."

I looked around surreptitiously. "Just do me a favor, Hermione?" She nodded curiously. I grinned.

"Don't tell anyone that I'm the one who gave you that advice."

* * * * * *

Trystan and I waved to Andi as we parted ways; she was off to the greenhouses for her Herbology lesson while we descended into the dungeons for our N.E.W.T. Potions class. I was secretly looking forward to this lesson – the first practical of the year, giving Professor Snape the opportunity to patrol the room and scare unsuspecting students. I didn't know how he was going to act toward me, and it filled me with excited anticipation.

It probably seems that I'm at least partially deranged, sneaking around with my Potions professor. Maybe I am – I seriously considered it in the beginning. Now that we were back at school and under the eyes of faculty that, um, held certain standards when it came to students, the risk made our meetings all the more exhilarating. To me, anyway. I hadn't actually asked him how he felt about bending the rule-that-wasn't-really-a-rule.

"Hey, Dreamer," Trystan interrupted my thoughts, nudging me. I blinked, realizing that my feet had carried me to the Potions door without my noticing. Trystan jerked his head to the room. "You might want to get your head out of the sky. Snape won't be kind for our first practical."

I sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm back here on earth now. Let's do this thing."

Trystan smirked. "'This thing?'"

"Shut up," I growled, shoving him and pushing my way into the classroom. I heard him chuckle and he followed me in. We took our seats at a side table, in the corner. Our class was small this year; Snape only took N.E.W.T. students who had received an O on their fifth year O.W.L.s. To be perfectly honest, very few in our year could have achieved that. The grand total was fifteen – I was one of only three Gryffindors who could say they belonged to Advanced Potions.

"What do you think?" Trystan whispered as we set up our cauldrons. "Easy hard, medium hard, or hard hard?"

"Dastardly hard, Mr. Hans," answered the silky, dark-chocolate voice that could melt me into a puddle of desire with just a word. "Lucky you."

Trystan made a face after Professor Snape had turned around; I frowned at him disapprovingly and he shrugged.

"Disillusionment Draught," Snape snapped as he reached the front of the room. "Purpose?"

My hand shot in the air, along with Andrea Henderson's. Snape nodded at her curtly.

"Temporary invisibility, with effects usually lasting up to an hour," Andrea recited sweetly.

I glared in her direction. Andrea had bottle-blonde hair and electric blue eyes – perfect Aryan characteristics that did not go unnoticed. Girls hated her and wanted to be her best friend, guys loved her and didn't mind being used if they got to touch that pale expanse of skin. Take a guess at her House. Ha. Somehow she managed to make it into Advanced Potions; if I hadn't demanded he swear it, I would have suspected her sleeping her way into the class. Severus had denied the fact, however, and somewhere deep down I believed him. The conflict had been massive in the beginning . . . I don't think he's ever had a student-teacher relationship before.

Whoops. My bad. Grin.

"Correct, Henderson. Ten points to Slytherin. You will find the preparation and technique in your textbooks; you have one hour to complete the potion." He stared around the room, eyes flashing. "Begin."

"Get's right to it, doesn't he?" Trystan muttered.

I didn't bother with an answer, as it was more rhetorical anyway. The Disillusionment Draught had some tricky steps, with specific ways of chopping-slash-slicing-slash-crushing the ingredients and precise timing on the addition. I started right away, knowing even before we all started that Severus was cutting it close with the hour time restriction.

I became so absorbed in my work that I didn't notice that he had come up behind me until he spoke in my ear. I jumped a foot in the air, my hand jolting so badly that I accidentally added too many drops of milkweed extract to the simmering potion; clouds of black steam immediately issued from the surface, quickly filling the room.

I coughed and rubbed my burning eyes. The smoke suddenly cleared, and I twisted around to see Severus with his wand out, gaze piercing me. I flinched.

"What a waste, Anderson," he said, accenting each word brusquely. "And you were doing so well. Shame." He waved his wand, vanishing my near-perfect attempt at a potion. "Pack up. Detention tonight, eight o'clock, this room. I may let you try again, if I'm feeling generous."

I glared at him furiously; he merely gazed back, eyebrow quirked in the most peculiar fashion and a cruel smirk on his lips. I heard Andrea giggle girlishly from the other side of the room and I colored. I shoved the stool back, nearly knocking it over in the process. I banged my books on top of each other and whirled, stalking out of the Potions classroom and slammed the door behind me.

I only hoped that some very valuable potions ingredients smashed to the floor and were destroyed.

* * * * * *

Andi and the Hans brothers gave me a wide berth that evening as I strode out the portrait hole, but I saw the glance they all exchanged. Trystan and I had informed the other two about the incident in the Potions class earlier, each from our own point of view. Both had been extremely sympathetic, only telling me not to let the man get to me and ignore his biases; I would be out in a year anyway, they assured me.

I was livid as I stomped through the corridors, slowly meandering my way to the dungeons. How dare he blame me for what had happened? I wouldn't have added the extra milkweed if he hadn't snuck up and scared the hell out of me. Gods, he had to know what his voice did to her!

The Potions classroom appeared before me, as if by magic. I scoffed. More likely that I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts about the dark man on the other side of the door that I hadn't realized where I was going until I was actually here. I groaned quietly. My anger still simmered under the surface, and I really didn't want to get into a confrontation with Severus Snape. He would win. He always won where I was concerned. Sighing, I lifted a fist and hammered on the wood, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. I winced; he was sure to detect that.

"Enter, Miss Anderson," he ordered from inside.

I walked into the room, head held high and face (hopefully) schooled to be expressionless. I dropped my bag to the floor and continued up to the desk until I stood in front of it, staring into Severus's eyes with defiance.

He silently went on grading his papers or writing his letter or whatever he was doing while I stood there. After at least five minutes, he set aside his quill and looked up at me, a strange smirk playing about his lips. I glared back.

"Something you wish to say before your detention commences, Miss Anderson?"

"Oh, now it's Miss Anderson, is it?" I shot back, desperately trying to keep the venom out of my voice but failing.

"Yes," he replied evenly. The twitch in his cheek gave away his amusement.

And I lost it.

"Where the hell do you get off on screwing with me like you did today?" I yelled. "If you at least made noise when you walk, I would have known you were right behind me and you wouldn't have surprised me and I wouldn't have messed up your precious potion!" I took a deep breath and continued my rant, not noticing that he seemed quite ambivalent about my accusations. "I've never had a detention before in my life! I'm the good one! I don't care about keeping up appearances if it smears my reputation! Whatever you're planning, forget it, because I'm not going to be some toy for you to play with at will!" I shouted.

"You are . . . truly . . . upset about today."

"Yes, damn it!"'

"Why?"

The question, clearly meant to throw me off, needed only a split second's pondering before I had my answer.

"Just because we're fucking, it does not give you the right to screw with me, with my schoolwork, the way you did today!"

He frowned at my abrasive language, apparently not expecting me to feel this passionately about the subject at hand. I myself had not known, but perhaps the I-care-more-than-I-should-while-you-don't-care-at-all thoughts were consuming my rational demeanor. His dark, endless eyes flashed with something. Understanding, maybe. I disregarded it.

"Aislin —"

"Professor," I stressed the word, "may I please be assigned my work for detention? After all, you did command it." The callousness in my voice surprised me.

He ignored my request, instead staring at me unblinkingly. I gazed back, refusing to be intimidated.

"Aislin," he said again, more sharply. "I do not appreciate you barreling into my classroom and proceeding to rant in such a fashion as you have."

I stayed silent, coolly regarding him with my eyes.

"Well? Have you nothing to say, girl?"

"I apologize, sir," I replied stiffly. "Next time I decide to rant, I will do so in a dignified manner as you see fit."

I watched his beautiful, dangerous eyes darken as he noted the sarcastic tone. He stood quickly and before I knew what was happening, he was beside me, gripping my wrist in a deathly hold. I hissed, knowing I would be bruised tomorrow.

"Might I remind you," he said quietly, "that you were the one who wanted this, Aislin? You were the one who couldn't give this up. I offered you an out and you refused. And here we are."

"You want it too," I ground out.

His lips crashed into mine with an intense ferocity that I was unfamiliar with. I think he wanted to devour me from the inside out. I was helpless to resist him, of course, too far under his spell to pull away. With a moan I kissed him back. As I did, he moved his mouth to my ear. I shivered at the hot breath on my skin.

"Be that as it may, girl," Severus whispered, "you are going to take me as I am or not at all. Your reputation has so much more to be destroyed, you know, if you and I were discovered. The illusion of detention, while perhaps clichéd for a relationship such as ours, serves its purpose. You are here now, with me, yes? And no one is wiser."

I squirmed in his grasp. He yanked me to him, flush against his form. I could feel him through our robes, feel what this type of dominance evoked in his body.

"You knew who I was when you came to me, Aislin," he continued to whisper, his free hand traveling down to cup my arse and press me even closer. I stifled a gasp. "Yet you still came. If you want to be with me, you must accept it as it is."

With that, he bit down on my lobe, hard enough to elicit a gasp that I could not conceal. He soothed the burn by suckling gently; his hands released me and busied by ripping my clothes from my person. He returned to my mouth, delving inside with his tongue, sucking and biting on my lower lip; I hardly noticed that he was backing me up, slowly, relentlessly forcing me to take steps backwards or risk falling to the floor.

By the time my back hit the cold stone wall I was naked except for my panties, which he proceeded to tear from my body with a force that tore them apart. I moaned hungrily into his mouth, scared of his actions yet so, so turned on.

He didn't allow me the pleasure of undressing him; a murmured incantation and he was naked against me. He threw his wand away and kissed, licked, and bit a burning trail along my jaw line and down my neck to my shoulder. I could only stand helpless as he stimulated all my senses, not even giving me time to respond.

He curled his long, experienced fingers around my leg and hitched it up about his waist, hooking my other leg around his arm and lifting it as well; I had no choice but to wrap my legs about his waist. In that instant he impaled me, driving his length up to my cervix. I let out a sound between a gasp and a strangled scream – I was already wet from his ministrations, but the suddenness of his actions made me feel more stretched than ever before. He seemed to be caressing every inch of my insides with that one simple stroke.

And then he began to move, pounding me into the wall at my back, but the pain was drowned out by the immense waves of ecstasy pulsing through my body. I clung to him, riding out the incredible feelings, crying my pleasure; he supported me, whispering in my ear about how he liked my sounds and how much he enjoyed feeling me surrounding him.

Each sharp thrust brought me higher and higher, closer to that edge. His fingers dug into the tender flesh of my bottom and I cried out loudly. He leaned forward, putting his lips by my ear, biting softly, rotating his hips in a spiraling movement that drove him impossibly farther into me.

"Come for me, Aislin," he demanded breathlessly. "If you want me, come for me . . ."

So I did, falling over that edge, and I screamed his name as my release washed over me, rapture rushing through every nerve in my body; I raked my nails down his back, undoubtedly drawing blood. He hissed in pleasure and a few short strokes later he followed me past that point of unimaginable bliss, moaning wordlessly. We clung to each other until the last tremor had passed, until we stood wrapped around each other, drenched in sweat.

He slowly untangled us, cautiously setting me on my wobbly legs. I looked up and gave him a small smile, which he returned hesitantly.

"I shouldn't have –"

I stopped him with a kiss. "No. It was fantastic, Severus." I moved to take a step away, toward my scattered clothes, but winced at the burning of my back.

Severus rotated me slowly and I saw the grimace that crossed his expression. "I'll get you a balm for that," he told me quietly, touching the expanse of skin and coming back with blood. "Sit down."

I painfully walked to the nearest table and situated myself upon it, watching him disappear into his stores and return with a jar of red salve. He gestured from the bottle to my back with his hand. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all," I smiled.

He applied the cold jelly-like substance, fingers lingering over my cuts almost tenderly. I shivered from the contact.

"I trust you will be back, then?"

I locked my eyes on the wall across the room, looking but not seeing. I wasn't sure what had just happened, but the relationship between us had changed somehow. He was offering me yet another out, and I could take it. I could walk away now. But I knew that I wouldn't.

"Of course, Severus," I replied quietly.

* * * * * *

_Yup, I'm definitely crazy_, I thought to myself as I began the long trek back to the Gryffindor tower. Only I would walk into a 'detention' completely furious about a professor's treatment and end up having a mind-blowing orgasm against the classroom wall. I sighed, knowing that every time with him only intoxicated me more. How did I even end up in this complicated relationship?

Oh, yeah, I remember. This past summer, in London. The day we met outside of Hogwarts, the day my life took an unexpected turn that I couldn't seem to escape from.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry this is taking a bit to update, I'm alternating between this and Shadows of the Heart, and I've been somewhat busy the past few days. But I hope this makes up for it! Once again I thank ChronoNomad for betaing the steaminess of the dungeons.

The next chapter will explain how Aislin and Severus ended up sleeping together in the first place – I can't wait to get started writing it!

I really, really appreciate your reviews and your alerts. It makes me so happy to know that you enjoy my writing. **_Please review!!_**


	5. Storm

**July 17, 6:22 pm – London**

I swore under my breath as I hurried up the street. The one day I go to Muggle London without my wand and the biggest summer storm has to roll through town. Just minutes ago the day was sunny and comfortably warm, but it only took an instant before dark thunderclouds invaded the pastel blue and sheets of rain started pouring down. Not the warm summer-type rain either, the kind one likes to walk in. A down-to-your-bones-chilling rain that immediately plastered my Muggle clothes to my body like a second skin.

I cursed again, beginning to shiver. I thought I could make it to the train station, but that prospect looked less and less likely by the second. The thunder roared loudly, almost immediately followed by a bolt of lightning so close I half-expected something to be on fire. I bit my lip and dashed into the nearest doorway, running blind due to the rain.

This might have been the reason I ran straight into something – someone – upon my leap into the entryway.

I gasped and stumbled back; unable to catch myself, I fell on my arse into a rather large puddle of rainwater. I swore yet again, loudly, and stared up to see my unintended victim. I swallowed.

Professor Snape, the Professor Snape of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the one who had taught me the past six years of my life in the art of Potions, glared down at me with dark, expressionless eyes. I watched a flicker of recognition pass over his face as we stared at each other. I believe I looked akin to an idiot, sitting in the gutter, my jaw slack in morbid fascination that _I had just run into a professor._

"Miss Anderson," he said silkily, gazing down his (abnormally large) nose at me, "do you make it a habit to use your schoolteachers as Bludgers during the summer months? Or am I just an exception?" The contempt in his voice was obvious.

"S-s-sorry, Professor," I apologized, stuttering because really, the man is very intimidating, and because the rain was getting to me. "I-I-I just wanted to get out of the rain. I d-d-didn't see you."

"Apparently."

I became acutely aware of the level of water seeping into my jeans and scrambled to my feet, moving to the corner farthest away from the looming figure of the Potions Master. I wrapped my arms around myself, fighting the shuddering spasms wracking my body. Professor Snape glanced over and sneered.

"Why don't you Disapparate home, silly girl? I assume you are of legal age and have passed the test."

"Y-yes, but I don't have my w-w-wand. Left it at home for sh-sh-shopping," I stammered.

"Of course you did. Stupid Gryffindor," Snape muttered.

I frowned best I could. "Th-this has nothing to do with my H-h-house!" I protested, my indignation lost in the translation. A shivering, sopping wet girl does not convey irritation very well.

If Snape could have shown any emotion, I was sure that he would be rolling his eyes. As it stood, he merely folded his arms and ignored me, staring out at the street instead. I do not take well to being ignored.

"What are y-y-_you_ doing out here an-an-anyway?" I demanded.

He turned his head, raising an eyebrow at me. "I do not see how that is any of your concern, Miss Anderson."

"Call me curious."

"Meddlesome, more like."

"Am not!"

He shrugged in reply, and I think he almost smirked at my less-than-stellar argument. But then again, this was Severus Snape I was conversing with. He probably found my situation amusing – wet, cold, without a way home. I mumbled a stream of curses under my breath.

"Language, Miss Anderson."

"N-n-not in school," I retorted, wondering if I could curl into a little ball for warmth.

Snape frowned in my direction. "Miss Anderson, your lips are turning blue."

"Surprise, surprise," I muttered.

"Despite my reputation, I do not believe in leaving students to freeze to death on the streets of London." He sighed irritably, as though this belief inhibited him greatly. "Come here, girl, I shall Side-Along Apparate you home."

I shook my head. "C-c-c-can't. Parents won't be back until t-t-tomorrow."

The crease in his brow furrowed even more. "Oh?" he growled.

"Helping with the C-C-Cup," I explained.

"And what were you going to do for tonight?"

I shrugged, helpless to cease my constant shuddering.

Snape really did roll his eyes this time, muttering a stream of oaths of his own. "Over here," he barked, "now."

Slowly, watching him warily, I shuffled toward the ominous man. He harshly grabbed my upper arm. "Be still," he ordered.

A moment later I felt as though I were being squeezed through a very narrow tube – the familiar feeling of Apparition. We landed a few seconds later and I gasped as my feet hit the brick floor; Snape held my arm tighter and I yelped.

"Let go!"

He released me quickly and stepped back. "Forgive me. Next time I shall allow you to topple to the floor most ungracefully. However, one does think that you should tire of it sometime." He smirked and pointed one long, pale finger toward the couch. "Sit."

Only then did I notice where he had Apparated us to. The walls were all stone, lined with bookshelves stuffed with books, not much warmer than outside but it was a small improvement. The couch he had indicated to me was a very dark forest green, so much so that it appeared black in the abysmal lighting of the dungeons – for where else could we possibly be? I craned my neck in every direction as I walked, sure that very few students had had the opportunity to journey into Snape's private chambers.

I sat gingerly, afraid of leaving a wet spot on the furniture – my clothes still dripped water. A fire burst to life in the grate, casting shadows about the room. The subsequent effect made the room more welcoming yet more foreboding at the same time. I glanced over my shoulder; the room was empty, but Snape reappeared through an adjacent door carrying a steaming mug of something.

Tea, I would discover as he thrust it in my hands. I wrapped my fingers around the warm ceramic gratefully and peered up through my lashes, offering him a small smile over the rim before taking a generous sip. He did not return the smile (go figure) but merely surveyed me with his lips pressed into a thin line. Abruptly, he spun and went to a rather large wardrobe off to the side. He rifled through it and pulled out a worn robe, glancing back at me before retrieving his wand and shrinking it. I realized with a start that it would now fit me.

"Here," he said shortly, throwing the robe over the back of the couch. "Take off your clothes and put this on. I would just cast a drying spell, but as you are covered with mud and filth and who knows what else . . ." he grimaced before turning and departing back through that other door.

I looked down at myself and winced as well. Apparently my falls had attracted dirt to my person as he said. I stood and removed my shirt, peeling it away from my skin as it clung stubbornly. I froze suddenly, casting a furtive glance toward the door. Surely he wouldn't . . .? But no. I reminded myself that this was Severus Snape, and I believed him to have a higher sense of moral standards than to spy on teen girls as they changed in his rooms. I bit back a hysterical giggle. Rephrase: Spy on a teen girl as she changed in his rooms. I highly doubted he did this sort of charity work often.

I hastily stripped off my jeans as well, but hesitated with my underwear. That would be too weird, handing over my unmentionables to Professor Snape. Comfort won out, however. I knew how awful it was to sit in wet knickers. The feeling was highly disconcerting, pulling Snape's robe around my naked body. I swallowed and threw my clothing in a disheveled pile near the fire.

He returned some time later, after I had finished my tea. He looked from me to the clothing on the floor with some distaste but ultimately refrained from commenting – a fact that I was eternally grateful for.

"Come," he ordered curtly. I stood uneasily and followed him into the next room, trying to ignore the way the cool dungeon air swirled about my ankles and floated up the robe. To my surprise, a small table had been set with food. I gave him a curious sidelong glance.

"It would be irresponsible not to take care of you, if I must, now that you're here," he answered my unspoken question. I noticed that this small gesture seemed bothersome to him. Was I really that much of a burden?

I sat in a high-backed wooden chair across from him, keeping my eyes glued to the plate in front of me. _This is too insane_, I thought to myself. The setting wasn't unpleasant, it just felt too . . . _intimate_. That I wasn't so sure I liked.

"Eat."

I wondered if he would ever use a full sentence when requesting – commanding – that I do something.

The food was delectable, no doubt prepared by the house-elves. I savored each bite, as home cooking was rare in my house. I usually ate alone, and I'm no cook.

I hazarded little glances over at Snape every so often. He alternated between looking at me and everywhere but me, as far as I could tell. He ate the way he did everything else in life – briskly, with a no-nonsense attitude. We did not speak; I thought the atmosphere tense enough without having to bring conversation into it.

"Is the meal satisfactory?"

Ah, but perhaps I spoke too soon. I looked up and nodded across the table. "Yes. Delicious."

He nodded and went back to his plate. I watched him a bit longer before talking again.

"Thank you."

He glanced up sharply; I caught the surprise that flitted across his face before he returned to his stoic self. "For?"

"Bringing me here. I know you are not obligated to care for a student outside the school year."

"Or even then."

I fought a smirk. "In your case, I suppose."

He studied me intently. I squirmed a bit under the intensity of his gaze, uncomfortably aware of the warmth slicking between my thighs. Snape had a commanding air about him, an undeniable one. I bit my lip, again thinking that the circumstances were far too intimate for my liking. Abruptly, I pushed my chair back and stood.

"I appreciate dinner," I said formally. "I'll be, uh, off to bed then." I blushed unwillingly; the words leaving my mouth even seemed too personal.

Snape nodded and gestured toward a door opposite. "Bedroom," he said brusquely.

I definitely reddened at that. My cool façade vanished. "Oh, sir, no . . . I couldn't . . . that's . . ."

"Improper though it may be, and I certainly agree with that, you will me much more comfortable there. I shall Transfigure the couch into something more to my liking. Honestly, girl, you think me a bastard enough to force you to sleep on the couch?" He snorted, eyes narrowing. "Go. Sleep. Hopefully I can be rid of you in the morning."

Yes, that sounded more like Snape. I briefly considered protesting, for propriety's sake, but I had a strange curiosity to see the bedroom. Morbidly so, as I tend to be.

"Good night, then, sir," I mumbled softly, padding across the cold stone to the door. I glanced over my shoulder; he nodded strictly, and I entered.

I couldn't help being slightly disappointed, but what had I expected? Skulls and coffins? The room was small, the king-size bed dominating most of the area. Like him, it radiated intimidation. I stalled, peering in the bathroom (nice, seemingly made of black obsidian) and looking out the small window off to the side.

I crawled into the bed cautiously, almost expecting it to bite me, but it remained inanimate. The sheets were silk, surprisingly, and I slid to the center. I lay down immediately and tried to fall asleep, but I couldn't at first. It still felt odd.

After a long time, I heard the door open and the water running in the bathroom. I made my breathing even, curled into a ball, pretending to be asleep. The water ceased and soon the wandlight – a lumos, surely – faded. He was there, though. I could sense him standing at the edge of the monstrous bed, watching me. I forced myself to maintain a steady rhythm of breaths. He left then, closing the door quietly, and I fell into a restless slumber.

* * * * * *

_The screams . . . the screams . . ._

"Miss Anderson . . ."

_Metal against metal against concrete . . . screams . . . _

"Miss Anderson!"

_Hot, salty. Red. All over, red. Screaming wails of a siren . . . human screams . . ._

"Aislin!"

I screamed, bolting upright in the bed, my head colliding with something. This room was unfamiliar – where was I? Why did my head spin so?

"Miss Anderson!"

I flinched from the voice. I paused, taking in my surroundings. Oh. My mind caught up with me, remembering yesterday. I slowly turned my head, cringing from the steel in his narrowed eyes. My head throbbed and I realized I must have knocked skulls with Snape. _Great_. I desperately tried to stop the ache in my brain.

"Lumos!"

I blinked in the sudden light. Snape had half-climbed onto the bed and stared at me. I tore my eyes from his penetrating gaze, only to see that he was dressed only in black boxers, thereby naked from the waist up. I blushed, hoping that the light was not enough for him to notice.

"I do not appreciate you disturbing the night with your moaning and whimpering and tossing about, Miss Anderson."

My eyes widened. "I'm so sorry. I must have been having a nightmare."

"Really."

The specifics of said nightmare came back to me then, and I averted my face lest he see the burning liquid in my eyes. "Sorry, Professor," I mumbled. "I'm fine now."

"Clearly you are not." A long finger turned my chin back to face him. He frowned at the look on my face. "Are you in need of some Dreamless Sleep potion?"

"No. It won't come back," I whispered. "Not tonight."

"You have this dream frequently?"

"Always," I said softly. I swallowed and locked my jaws shut. Why had that slipped out?'

Snape gingerly sat himself on the edge of the bed. "What do you need, then?"

I shook my head, very aware that the tears were burning a path down my cheeks. "I need . . . I need . . ." I sighed and cried out in frustration. "I don't know! I can't make it go away!" I sobbed.

Snape looked decidedly awkward, clearly not used to crying witches in his bed. He reached out and captured a tear on his finger. I abruptly ceased my hysterics, watching him. He examined the drop of water and glanced over at me.

"What do you need?"

I tell myself often that this was the moment I must have lost my mind. Completely out the window. Sometimes I blame it on the overwhelming grief that accompanies the nightmare I have. Sometimes I guiltily admit that the sight of Severus Snape shirtless was enough to fulfill any girl's fantasy, and I simply took advantageous of it.

I launched myself at him, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him toward me. Our mouths met in a searing kiss, one that set me aflame from the tips of my toes up to my very light head. He jerked back, eyes wide.

"Miss Anderson!" he addressed me sharply. "That was entirely inappropriate."

I stared at him. "Yes." I tackled him again, managing to maneuver him onto his back, and began placing open mouthed kissed over his hot skin. He half-heartedly tried to push me away.

"We cannot do this," he protested.

"Watch me," I muttered against his flesh, licking a long line up the column of his neck.

"Miss Anderson –"

"Aislin," I interrupted him, whispering right in his ear. "My name is Aislin." I nipped his lobe.

"No," he whispered, but his hands tightened around my arms.

"Yesss," I hissed. He shook his head and I bit down hard, noting the sharp gasp that issued from his mouth. "Stop doing that." I soothed the angry red bite mark with my tongue.

"I am a teacher. This isn't right."

"School's not in."

"That does not erase the fact that you are my student!"

"Tonight it does."

"You don't want this."

"I do."

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Probably not."

"I am not a nice person . . . Aislin."

I bit my lip at the sound of my name on his tongue. "I don't care."

"You should. I could hurt you."

"I don't care."

"I'm not a Slytherin for nothing." His voice was stronger now, more warning than protests.

"I can take it."

"I'm not so sure."

"So prove me wrong."

He grasped my head in his hands and pulled me down for a fierce kiss. I gasped as he held nothing back. Tongue and teeth invaded my mouth, probing every crevice, nibbling my sensitive lips, possessing and dominating me with his movements.

"Ohhhh, my gods," I moaned lustfully into his mouth. I could feel my heart beginning to pound erratically; the sound of it thudding in my ears like a drum, so overwhelming I was certain he would hear it as well.

My hands found the smooth expanse of his chest, muscles contracting involuntarily underneath my searching fingers. He made a noise in his throat, a deep groan that seemed to be dragged from his very core. Snape descended, leaving me panting for air when his teeth nipped a trail down my throat and across my collarbone, his tongue soothing away the sting almost instantly.

Something inside me snapped then, with the feeling of his body so close to mine, his hands and mouth searching greedily. It made me so much more mischievous, apparently. I grasped his hand tightly, forcing it up and under my borrowed robe and against the slippery folds beneath. Instantly, I felt him react, his sinews tightening and his hand pressing firmly against my wetness. I arched up to meet his touch with reckless abandon.

"Severus!" I hissed, his given name hot and unfamiliar on my lips.

"Yes, Miss Anderson?" he retorted, a wry grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Is there something I can _do_ for you?"

I glared for a moment, but my mind quickly fell to distraction as I felt a solitary finger enter my orifice. Automatically, my muscles contracted around his roving digit, swirling deliciously inside, stroking along every torturous inch. He moved without rhythm, causing my body to convulse in uncontrollable spasms. My head thrown back into the pillows, I couldn't see his self-satisfied smirk, but I'm sure it was present.

He growled against my skin, sending shivers through my body and a distinct pulse in my nether regions. Through my haze, I became aware of his tongue flicking lightly upon tender flesh; I moaned, my nipple hardening into a bud of peaked desire. I could feel his other hand reaching up, up to grasp my breast in his palm, squeezing gently as his finger caressed the hardened tip. I became instantly wetter when a second finger penetrated into my slick reaches. Before I had even had a chance to adjust to this new addition I was introduced to a third. Later I would think that maybe I had an idea of what was to come, but then I had no idea that the madness had barely begun.

Snape slithered down the bed, true to his Slytherin nature, sliding himself out of his boxers gracefully. I watched him with wide eyes, chewing my lip absently. He moved slowly forward, pushing the refitted robe slowly up my thighs. My breath caught. The material continued to glide across my body, the tantalizing brush of his fingers across my flesh leaving a trail of intangible fire on my skin. For a few moments my vision obscured as the dark robes plunged me into darkness; before a dozen heartbeats I was again able to see him. Snape – hovering over my now naked form like a predator – was glaring into my eyes, a voracious glint in his own liquid orbs.

I averted my gaze downward, settling upon what I truly wanted. He watched silently while I stared, not realizing that my eyes had once again widened considerably as I saw him for the first time; a smirk played furtively across his lips. He chuckled derisively.

"Something . . . catch your eye, did it," he growled malevolently.

I could only groan in response, a blush spreading heatedly across my cheeks. My fingers clenched the sheets unconsciously, Snape's lips closing around a very sensitive left breast. I cried out wordlessly as his tongue flicked out against the receptive nerves, the heat of his mouth flush around me. My senses protested from being assaulted all at once, my body shuddering in response. I experienced the sensation of my own juices seeping between my legs, Snape never failing to cease his explorations.

"All for me," he whispered hotly. "For tonight, you are _mine_." I groaned his name in reply.

He moved down my body, open-mouthed kisses on my skin; he bit down firmly around my belly button and left behind a perfect ring of marks. My head seemed fuzzy – Severus Snape had marked me. That bit of information overwhelmed me. The fun wasn't over, though; his fevered breath against my most intimate bits had me writhing uncontrollably. Again, he chuckled, the sound reverberating straight to my core. I knew, without a doubt, that he venerated the power he held over me, having me like this, absolutely willing to bend to his word.

He inhaled deeply. "You are simply delectable." A pale pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. "Aislin," he breathed. I thrashed obediently.

He descended. I could see nothing more than his parted raven hair, but I could feel him. Oh, gods, could I feel him. Teeth and tongue attacked me, caressing my tender lips and plunging further. He sucked greedily, hands at my hips, forcing me closer to the sweet torture of his mouth; a sweep of his tongue over the sensitive bud of my clit had me shaking wildly before he plunged in, licking up every drop of essence that I offered.

The magic he was working made my body hot, temperature rising unchecked, and filled me with a strange rippling. I found myself being pushed closer and closer to some invisible edge, delicious sensations coursing through my veins; I realized what I felt a split second before it happened.

"Severus," I gasped, "I'm – I –"

One more sure stroke and I exploded, an unseen radiance consuming me from my very light head to my tingling toes. I knew not from where this wave came from, but I drowned in it – unable to move my hips, for his powerful hands still held me, I howled my pleasure, crying out his name as I rode out the tsunami. He forced me to stay with him, drinking in my release fervently, seemingly determined not to let a drop go to waste. He continued to lap even after my violent shudders and keening subsided, disheveled hair hiding his face. Eventually, he gave one final sweep and surfaced, a decidedly smug smirk on his mouth.

I stared into his face, my eyes glazed and unfocused. He traveled back up to meet me at eye level, hands skimming my body.

"You," he said softly, "are most unexpected, Aislin Anderson." Another shiver racked me unwillingly. He smiled – as close to a smile as I had ever seen from him, anyway. "But do not think that I'm done possessing you."

I could feel his long, hot organ throbbing gently against my thigh. My ragged breath stilled somewhat. I knew what he planned for next.

He slid himself between my legs, rubbing gently against me. His eyes stared into mine, betraying nothing of his emotions. His gaze simply existed, molten fire though it was. Suddenly he pushed into me, unhesitatingly, straight through my barrier and into my depths.

I shrieked and he froze. My eyes watered, but I forced myself to hold his stare. He swore softly.

"You should have told me."

"You would have stopped," I replied honestly.

His mouth tightened. "Perhaps, but with good reason." He shook his head, beginning to pull out.

I clutched at him urgently. "Don't stop," I begged. "Please, don't leave me like this."

He searched my face, where my desperation clearly etched itself upon my features. Slowly, he nodded. "As you wish."

Snape moved slowly, agonizingly so, the ache burning dully before it ceased and his motions became more pleasure than pain. I rolled my hips experimentally; he hissed. I offered him a small smile and he leaned over to kiss my lips. I sighed into his mouth.

The established rhythm locked in at a low tempo, allowing me to learn, to participate, even as he drove us both closer to the brink. He shifted his hips every so often, letting a new part of me experience his slow but sure possession. I later marveled at his control – he obviously held his primal instincts at bay for my sake. The orgasm he pulled from me was gentle but no less powerful, washing over me as I cried out. He followed me, groaning softly in my ear, filling me completely.

When his shudders had subsided he rolled off me to the side, drawing the sheets up over my body. We didn't speak. I understood that the need simply did not exist, not tonight, not after that.

Exhausted, curled up against his body, I slipped into unconsciousness.

* * * * * *

Morning found me alone. I eased into the waking world, but it took mere moments for me to recall the events that had transpired late last night. I bit my lip. How could I have been so foolish? My virginity had been taken by my Potions Professor.

How 'bout that.

I slid from between the silk sheets and retrieved the wrinkled robe from the floor, wrapping it around my form. After I relieved myself in the bathroom, I went in search of said Potions Master.

I found him in the next room, sitting at the table, staring at the opposite wall with a blank expression. I cleared my throat to announce my presence; he turned his head to look at me.

"Good morning," I greeted him nervously.

"And to you," he replied quietly. He gestured in front of him. "Breakfast, if you'd like."

I cautiously sat down and helped myself to several crispy strips of bacon and a bit of toast, frequently glancing up to his face. I wondered if Snape was in shock. He certainly acted it. I ate silently, noticing that he had failed to take any food himself. He only gazed at a point over my shoulder unblinkingly.

Halfway through, I saw him swallow. "Shall we discuss this now, Miss Anderson?"

I raised an eyebrow. "If you'll drop the formalities, we shall. Let's just skip the awkwardness and get right to it, if you don't mind."

He frowned. "You aren't angry?"

"Why would I be?"

"I took advantage of you."

I bit back a laugh, but I'm afraid the mirth could not stay out of my eyes. "If I recall correctly, it was I who initiated last night."

"Be that as I may, it was my responsibility to stop it when I could have. I did not. Therefore I hold myself accountable. I am –"

"The adult?" I interjected. I shook my head. "Don't patronize me, and don't treat me like a child. I'm an adult too. Last night was not teacher and student, but man and woman. Surely you recognize that."

His eyes darkened. "You should have warned me."

I sighed. "As I pointed out last night, you would have stopped. I didn't want you to stop. It was an entirely enjoyable experience, if I might offer my opinion." I grinned wickedly. "Very, very nice."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you in pain?" he demanded.

I shook my head. "Not bad. I've had much worse, believe me."

He pressed his lips together in a thin line but did not comment. Instead, he asked, "Can you return home today?"

"Yes."

Later, he Side-Along Apparated me to the front lawn of my house. He caught my wrist as I turned to walk up the drive.

"Miss Anderson."

I halted abruptly, glaring over my shoulder. He sighed.

"Aislin." I relaxed. He continued, "This will not happen again. I must insist you do not mention our . . . encounter to anyone, however."

I rolled my eyes. "Honestly, Professor, who would believe me?"

He nodded curtly. "Good-bye until the fall, Miss Anderson."

"Good-bye."

He Disapparated with a crack. I smiled sadly at the empty air where he had been standing.

"Severus."

That night was not the last, of course. Somehow we ran into each other again and again, each time with an outcome exactly as the day of the storm. I became more comfortable with him, and he grudgingly admitted me into his bed. We agreed that nothing more was to emerge from our multiple encounters (as he so liked to call them). He told me to separate the physical from the emotional, or he would terminate our relationship as it stood. I immediately accepted his terms. Why would I want to be emotionally involved with someone like Severus Snape anyway?

* * * * * *

**Present Day**

_Why indeed_, I thought to myself as I crept into Gryffindor Tower. My body ached deliciously. _Isn't that the million-Galleon question?_

No. I knew the real question. It glaringly made itself more known every day, every time I surrendered to the undeniable control of my lover.

I had agreed to a relationship with no attachment. The physical separated from the emotional.

I had agreed to it, but could I see it through?

* * *

A/N: I'm incredibly sorry this took so long, but as you can probably tell, this is my longest chapter yet. I hope the content makes up for it!

Reviews are revered and appreciated!


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